


The Lovers: The Storm

by Jean Genie (Su_Abeille)



Series: The Lovers [2]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Dominance, Ethanessa, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, FIx It, Fluff, Gothic, Gothic Erotica, Gothic Romance, Horror, Kink, Oral Sex, Post Season 2 Fix It, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Romance, Rough Sex, Season 3 AU, Season 3 RetCon, Season 3 rewrite, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Submission, Victorian, Victorian erotica, Voyeurism, Werewolf Kink, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves, Witches, smoking fetish, victorian romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Abeille/pseuds/Jean%20Genie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Ethan and Vanessa are able to be intimate with each other, they push forward into the darkness within both of them to see what they are capable of together.  Within the protection of the other's power, they navigate through the desires that had previously caused such havoc and destruction, to see if this is indeed their purpose in one another's lives.</p><p>Now that the finale has aired this has been re-branded as a Season 3 AU/Rewrite</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a new space that they had carefully stepped into. The tenderness had given them a way to be physical with each other. They touched one another, made love to each other, and expressed this gentleness in full. Yet this was not their full selves.

They both had the other parts of their nature. Each had seen the other’s darkness, was aware of what it was capable of. Ethan thought at length about this, about the beast in him and how it was linked to the dark power in her. It had been foretold that the scorpion would have a protector. They had been preordained for the other. His curse may have been given to him to protect her and not be a curse at all. This darkness might only turn destructive when he was parted from her. He may have been seeking her out his whole life, unconsciously looking for her. She had believed that this was a battle she had always and would always fight alone, yet she had seen what he was willing to do to protect her. This had become something that they fought together, her and him.

Their primal natures were intrinsically linked and because of this, they yearned for the other. His beast knew her power, and her power knew his beast. He could feel it begin to surface when they made love, looking at her through his eyes. Ethan was flooded with base impulses. He wanted to put her into a submissive position, he wanted to mark her as his, he wanted to curl himself around her and know that he could rest because he was assured that she was safe.

Ethan knew that she had been regarding the beast as it had been regarding her, flashing in his eyes while they were pursuing their pleasure together. He had been reigning the beast in, but had only been able to do so because it was not bent on destruction in that moment. He wondered about how her nature, with its own visceral darkness, felt about being with the wolf. He could tell that as they were together more and more that she was becoming slowly less inhibited, that her fear of her own desires was lessening. What he wasn’t sure of was how far she wanted to take it.

He knew that there was a way for the most primal parts of themselves to meet. The flip side of the tenderness that they had been experiencing was the rawness of the dark part in both of them. The beast and the scorpion yearned to touch and be touched by the other. He knew that the freedom of fully letting go of that part of himself during their intimacy would be beyond any pleasure he had ever experienced and that it would be much the same for her. Being so perfectly matched they may be the only other person who they could fully connect with on that level. Yet he was still fearful of what he was capable of when the beast took over, of the darkness that had overwhelmed her in the past when she’d let herself go. If they ventured into this darkness this would always have to be something they were aware of. If would always have to be just a taste of the visceral.

He started to notice slightly aggressive sexual advances from her and knew that she wanted to tread cautiously into that darkness with him. She nipped his bottom lip with her blunt teeth when she kissed him. She stood at her bedroom door at night in the gauziest of nightgowns, letting the candle light behind her outline her full shape in a way more obscene than pure nakedness, and then bid him goodnight and closed her door, not letting him be with her that night. She left light bruises under her fingertips on his upper arm from gripping him so hard while she came. His undoing was when, one night, just before he roared out his orgasm, she met the beast flashing in his eyes with a focused stare, acknowledging it and connecting to it. The beast had reared up then, barely restrained, and he had gripped her hips hard as he thrust deep into her.

These glimpses of her darker desires weren’t just when they were in the midst of their most passionate moments. In the quiet of the afternoon, when they were sitting across the room from one another, she would go very still, regarding him in silent contemplation, her eyes fixated, her pupils dilated, her lips wet, her breathing rapid. He knew that the thoughts she was having were far from the tenderness they usually shared. 

The power balance between them shifted as she began to trust him more and more. He laid a possessive hand on her back guiding her as they walked together, he told her what dress he wanted her to wear, he admonished her for not eating enough at dinner. This power play created a safe space for them, for her. She was able to submit to him and know she was protected.

But what of the power in her, this dark gift that she had, the witch that uttered the language of the fallen angels, whose rage could destroy everything around her, who had defeated Satan in so many forms, who feared so little. This woman was more powerful than anything he’d ever encountered. This part of her, it was stronger than him, and he knew that it had been held at bay when around him. She never had this kind of control of it before. It was a unique part of her connection to him. With him, both the shy, rather modest girl that Vanessa was and the powerful, vengeful creature that existed within her felt desired by him.

This innocent Vanessa who had been eclipsed for so long by the power in her, this was an aspect of her that he had been trying to draw out. He realized as he had watched her response to the things that he would ask her to do when they were intimate, that in some indirect way, she was actually ignorant of many expressions of intimacy. He knew that her dark desires were where her sexual experiences had come from, and that in those moments, her insatiable lust was driven to seek pain and primal satisfaction. His beast wanted to fuck that dark creature, that was true. But he had wanted to see if he could bring forth this curious, comparatively inexperienced woman, and show both her that sexual pleasure could be slow, controlled, from unexpected experiences and contact. He want to put his hands and his mouth places she never knew would bring her pleasure. Both the beast and the man wanted to bury himself so deep in her, watch this shy, inexperienced woman and the powerful creature within her keen from the feel of it. He wanted to listen to the sound of passion that would come out of her mouth if he were to do things to her that she never knew possible.

Not that he had grown tired of the visual of her over him, her head back, her eyes closed as the pleasure overcame her. The breathy rhythmic moans as he thrust into her again and again and again, they haunted him. He would hear them whispering against his ear when they were out surrounded by people and sometimes he wasn’t able to stop himself from reaching out and wrapping his fingers around her slender arm to squeeze possessively. When he did this she slyly looked up at him under the pale fan of her lashes, lips quirking into a teasing smile.

This increased passion, the progression of the intensity of their love making, made him think of all the other things we wanted to do to her, that he wanted them to do together. His mind brought up all the places on her body he wanted to press his lips, mark with his hands. Then the beast would break through his thoughts and let its desires known, of the things it wanted to do as it possessed her whole body with its primal needs.

Then he thought tenderly of what he wanted to do to this woman that he loved. He wanted to show her things she’d never dreamed possible, not just in terms of what he could do to her but how she could experience unbridled passion of her own without the threat of darkness waiting for her after. He wanted to educate her in the ways of pleasure.

It was fear that kept her from letting herself become lost in her passion. He watched as she struggled to keep herself in check when they were together, watched the little darts of fear of the darkness flit momentarily across her face, making her hold back from him. He knew that their dark natures needed to meet. He was strong of will and her control was like iron, each forged through battle, and that would keep them safe. Ethan knew that this was something they had to explore, that this might be a part of their larger destiny in the way that him finding her and saving her life was. As before, he knew that he had to take the first step, to usher them towards what they both wanted.

____


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sure our neighbours think I’ve gone mad again. Though I imagine a lady gardening while wearing your old pants can’t really compare to some of things they must have already seen around this house.”

It was springtime in London and she had set herself on the task of cleaning out the back garden  It had been neglected since Sembene’s death and she wanted to honor the work he’d done. She had donned a pair of Ethan’s old trousers, after cutting about a half a foot of length of them and clinching them with an old belt. Ethan told her she looked like the prettiest scarecrow he’d ever seen and she’d grinned and thanked him for the compliment.

She’d taken to the outside, and he had watched as she pruned and planted and dug. He knew that it was these little things, things she was never allowed to do as a girl but then became so adept at, that they were one of her greatest sources of peace.

“I’m off to have my bath.” She bent over him from behind the couch to wrap her arm around him and to press a kiss to the side of his neck, lingering there for just a moment.

Looking over his shoulder, he watched her go up the stairs. He’d be damned if she didn’t look enticing, her hips moving under the dirty trousers. He realized that this was a chance to try something new. He would press ahead into the unknown. Together they would experience new things together and feel their strengths connect. He waited ten minutes before he followed her up the stairs to the bathroom. He could hear faint splashing behind the closed door and then, smiling to himself, stepped in.

“Ethan!” She gasped, covering herself with her arms.

“Not proper, darlin’?” He grinned at her. “Wanna see this neat trick I do with my socks?”

She blushed when she realized that being shocked at him seeing her nude in the bath was rather disproportionate to the fact that they had been together so intimately. This reaction delighted Ethan, to see a glimpse of this rarest of all Vanessa’s, the modest girl. As he pulled the rest of his clothes off he watched the blush deepen across her cheeks, her eyes averted from his naked body before her.

“Ethan, what are you doing?”

“I mean to get into that fancy smelling bath with you.” And with that he reached down to grasp her gently under the arms and pick her up so that he might slide in behind her. This feeling of being picked up like she weighed nothing, feeling the ease by which his muscular arms were able to manipulate her, made a primal rush go through her that felt more like his power than hers, and she was enthralled by it. He sat her down between his long legs, so long that they wrapped around her.

They were quiet once he’d settled himself. She leaned back against his naked chest, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. She felt her body rising and falling with his breaths as she studied the hands on the tub on either side of her. They were large and strong, capable of such violence and such tenderness. Her eyes slipped shut as she felt the warm water and the strength of the body around hers causing her to relax into a feeling of safety. Her mind’s eye wandered, without express intent, to feel that rush of emotion she always felt when she looked into his soul. She’d become almost addicted to doing this, to letting his love for her wash over her, to feel the protection, the innate lightness and joy of it.

This time, though, there was something primitive looking back at her. It was the beast, lolling in the contentment of the moment. She stepped deeper into this, to see if she could read this animalistic part of him. What she felt could only be described as a primal bond. The beast was responding to her as its mate.

She pulled back to herself, overwhelmed not so much by the implication of this, rather by her own reaction. This feeling of protection she had when she was laying with him, when he was close to her, this feeling was primal too. It was the security of a female in a guarded den.

He reached over to small oak table sitting next to the tub and picked up one of her dark hashish cigarettes, putting it between his lips then lighting it from the candle on the table. She watched him do it, felt the broad chest under her delicate back inhale and then exhaling to form swirling clouds around them, isolating them in smoke. Wordlessly he held it out in front of him and watched as she leaned slowly forward to place it between her own lips, to take it from his fingers. The silence was instantly thick with desire.

She turned around then, in the space between his legs. Facing him, she bared her breasts to his eyes. Rivets of water outlined their curves, the soap slick on them as they swayed with her movement. The smoke dangled from her lips as she watched him blatantly stare at this, his tongue unconsciously licking his chops as his hunger grew. She moved until she had a leg over each of his thighs, hands clasped on the tub on either side of him, bracing herself up on him. She took a long drag on the cigarette, and then took it from her mouth, clenching it between two fingers. Being as close as they were, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning just that little bit farther in, placing her pale, hardened nipple between his lips. She lolled her head back at the sensation, exhaling the smoke in a low moan. Moving to the other breast he did the same, then pulled the stiff nub ever so slightly into his mouth, drawing a quick, hard gasp from her. He felt one of her hands rest on the back of his head, pulling him to her breast again, and he responded in kind. This time he pulled in harder, just lightly grazing his teeth over the nipple now as hard as a stone. Her hips unconsciously moved forward and she felt the tip of his cock press against her. She moved her hips again at this touch, making it run a line up and down her soft inner thigh.

With a controlled guttural groan, his hands shot out to grasp her rather roughly by the hips to cease her movements. At being made still, she opened her eyes to look at his face below hers. His brow was creased with control, his chest rapid with breath, and his cock stiff with need. She could see him keeping himself in check despite the roaring desire for pleasure brewing inside of him and it made her admire him even more, if such a thing were possible. It was then that she recognized what Ethan was doing. He wanted to tread into the uncharted, to go places they hadn’t, trusting that their mutual control was strong enough. Reaching out, she pressed her fingers under his chin, causing him to met her gaze. When she saw the beast looking back out at her, restrained but desperate with need, she knew what it wanted from her. Holding the beast’s gaze, showing no fear, she lowered to kiss Ethan, once, deeply, and then reached down to grasp his thick length, now like steel under her touch, and guided him into her.

She moved then, a top him. The tempo grew slowly as she undulated her hips. His hands slid up to grasp her waist, almost encircling it. Deepening each thrust, she began pulling him almost out of her and then sliding down again, feeling the tip of his cock hit the exact spot in her that caused thick jolts of pleasure through her whole body. Pulses of pure sensation flashed through her body, from the tip of her toes and fingers straight to her center and back. The pleasure was building, more and more with each moment. Unconsciously she began to let out soft grunts with each thrust, her fingers gripping the sides of the tub so tightly that her knuckles were white. She watched as his eyes greedily took in the sight of her riding him, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, a flush spreading across her chest. She knew that this would goad the beast, tease it to the forefront, and so she waited for it. When she felt the hands about her waist tighten and hold her still she knew that she’d won.

Holding her so, he began to lift her and manipulate her on top of him. She watched the muscles dance across his glistening wet chest and arms as he did so. She met each inward stroke with a thrust of her hips. When she felt her climax starting to crest she opened her eyes to see his face and saw the beast’s eyes looking at her, holding her in its possession. Desire rushed through her but she was not afraid. There was no danger of destruction, no threat here. It was only pleasure built up until neither one of them could take it anymore. She felt him thrust her down on his cock in rapid secession until he could hold his eyes open no more. He snarled then, teeth flashing, as he filled her, emptying all he had deep inside her. Then her loud, drawn out keen filled the room as she arched back taut like a bow beneath his hands. The beast, purely on instinct, pulled on her pale nipple and quickly and not gently, pressed teeth into it. She called out, startled with lust, reaching out to weave her fingers into his hair, pulling on it to get him to release the pink tip from his teeth. He obediently did so immediately, flicking out his tongue to lap at the soreness. She whimpered at this, then put both her arms around him and pulled his body to hers. He pressed his face into her slim neck, senses filled with the feel, the smell of her while still deep inside her tight warmth.

They stayed like this, huddled together in the cooling water as they each tried to calm their ragged breathing. This was when he noticed that the cigarette was still tightly clenched between two of her fingers and that it had created a thick haze of smoke around them as they had made love. He took it from her and then raised it to his mouth, pulling in a deep lungful. As he exhaled he placed the cigarette between her lips. She inhaled and, as he took the cigarette away, she allowed the smoke to slowly, so slowly, curl out between her lips. At this she felt him start to stiffen inside her again.

____

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was later in the evening, after supper. They weren’t alone, Sir Malcolm was entertaining guests in the parlour. She was sitting on the couch in the library with Ethan, the door open. They could hear the murmur of voices coming from the other side of the house. She was intently reading as he looked through the shelves, both aware of the other’s location at all times. Something caught his eye. He pulled out a slim volume and opened it. It was what he thought it was.

He sat down on the couch next to her and handed her the book.

“Looks like I found one of Sir Malcolm’s hobbies that we didn’t know about.”

She looked down in confusion at the unmarked book and opened it. It contained grimy, poorly reproduced pornographic photographs. The first was of two girls, naked, coquettishly smiling while intimately touching each other.

Her response was a mix of surprise and girlish embarrassment. He delighted in this innocence, proof that there was more to her than just a mysterious destructive power. He watched a blush bloom over her pale sharp features as she looked at the picture.

“My goodness! And here I thought him to be such a morally upright fellow!” She joked.

“I’ve heard that the Pope himself has a dirty picture stash somewhere in the Vatican.”

“Most likely.” She studied the page for a moment.

“Did you know that this was something that women did to each other?” He asked.

“Well yes. I - “ She stopped and pressed her lips together. She met his eyes, searching for that trust and finding it, went on. “I did something like this once myself. To Mina.”

He felt the beast within him begin to stir.

“It was in the months before she was to be married, before all the horribleness happened. It was when we were still so linked to each other, when we would spend almost every night together in either her bed or mine, as we had almost our whole lives. I came into my room after my bath earlier than she was expecting me. She was standing in front of the mirror in just her dressing gown, looking at her naked body. She was so embarrassed that I had caught her that she jumped into bed immediately, turning her back to me. I said nothing. I blew out the candles and got into bed as well. After a some tense silent moments I asked her why she had been looking at herself. She told me that she was scared, that her mother hadn’t properly explained what married people did and she was worried that her body would disappoint her husband. I gently wrapped my arm around her, and told her that he would delight in her, that she was beautiful and that she mustn’t be afraid. She was trembling, and was still so scared. In that moment I felt was my love for her, but it was more than that. I wanted to be the one who did this to her first. I wanted to always have that claim no matter what. I had always found Mina beautiful. Her skin was so fair, and had a soft blonde down on it. When we were young I would lie next to her and stroke that down on her arm, over and over, in a kind of hypnotic way. When I had seen her naked in the mirror, I saw the blonde hair that covered her where she’d had none before. It looked different from mine, so light, like a whisper of smoke. I asked her if I could show her where he would be joined with her, and she said yes. I reached down and touched her. It was so fascinating, that texture against my fingertips. She gasped then and when I looked up at her face I saw there was a flush on her, that her eyes were tightly closed. I asked her if she wanted me to stop and she shook her head. So I touched her again and again, and then deeper. She was so warm there. I stroked her over and over, feeling the texture tickle my skin, the warmth against my fingers. Then suddenly she was shuddering, shivering all over and this small moan came out of her. Afterwards she pressed back into my embrace and turned her head away and eventually I could tell she’d fallen asleep. We never talked about it afterwards. I still remember that feeling though, of that part of her against my fingers, and that sound. The sound of her gasps.”

She looked up at him when she was finished. He was leaning forward now, his one arm braced behind her on the couch. What she saw in his eyes was different than what she had been seeing. His face had a set expression, firm in its intent. The wolf flickered out of his brown eyes, shining in the light with flashes of opalescent green. Her breathing became rapid as she realized she was could feel his primal desire as well as her own.

“What do you feel, remembering what you did with her?” He whispered, leaning into their closeness so her gaze was nothing but him. This was less of a question and more like a demand. She knew that he was telling her to say exactly what she was feeling.

“It makes me…I feel….fluttering…” She spoke almost beyond volition, her answer pulled out of her. Her eyes danced around, unable to meet his penetrating, knowing gaze. He knew what she felt, without her even having to say it. But he still wanted to hear her, to have her speak aloud of the pleasure pulsing through her body. “I can feel a warmth in me, a tightening.”

“Where?” He asked, his voice deep and low in her ear. She touched her lap, laid her hand there on the purple taffeta of her skirt.

“Here.” This wasn’t specific enough for him.

“Where?”

“Inside...inside me.” Her cheeks were crimson now, from embarrassed arousal. Her upbringing, the propriety she had been taught to hold above all else, the polite restraint that had been her way of differentiating herself from the primitive power within her, it was being challenged in this. Yet it wasn’t the uncontrollable need to make sex into something dangerous and destructive that was being pulled out of her. It was a deep, deep desire that came from an instinctive part of her being, this need to do what he asked of her. Needing to please him fell in tandem with her desires. But she lacked the skills, the language, the knowledge of the things he wanted from her, sexually. She was finally able to meet his eyes, to convey to him that she had no more words to use to tell him of the hot, pooling pleasure inside her. His expression stayed firm, but he reached out to run his knuckle along her jawline.

“Are you getting wet?” He asked in a low tone. She nodded, mesmerized.

“Show me.” He held his hand out to her.

She hesitated, heedful of the voices down the hall.

“Show me how wet your pussy is.” This profane word visibly shocked her, enforcing what he was asking. There was no room for refusal here. Never breaking away from his assertive gaze, she gathered up her long skirt and petticoat, till her stockings and knickers were showing. She took his hand and with a quick, cautious look at the door, put it under waist of the soft linen of her knickers until his fingers felt the wet warmth of her.

“You’re so wet and hot thinking about this thing you did.” His eyes were almost completely black now, all pupil, his lips drawn back to flash his teeth at her. She unconsciously responded with a whimper. Her little white teeth were sunk into her bottom lip, making it red. He leaned forward to pull the tortured plumpness in between his own lips, running the tip of his tongue along it.

While she was distracted by his mouth playing with hers, he slipped two of his thick fingers into her, curling them inside her while the rough pad of his thumb rubbed against the center of her pleasure. A low rasping sound came out of her from deep within, passing into his mouth with her exhale. She reeled back flat against the couch. Their gaze was locked and she was in his thrall.

“When you were doing this, Vanessa, did you feel like you were doing something bad?” His voice was rough now, thick.

“Yes.” She breathed out.

“But you didn’t feel bad about doing something that you knew was bad, did you?”

“No.” She said as an almost whimper. Her mouth was open, lips swollen, breath rapid.

“Knowing that you were doing something bad made it feel even better, didn’t it?” His other arm behind the couch wrapped around her now, holding her by the waist as he continued to slowly press his fingers in and out of her. His eyes never left hers, both sides of his nature pinning her there.

“Yes, God, yes.” She sobbed out.

“You like doing bad things when you're not afraid of how bad they are. There’s a freedom in that lack of fear.” His tone softened ever so slightly, and she felt herself start of melt into his touch.

“Yes.”

“Like what we’re doing right now, my hand under your dress, while Sir Malcolm and his posh friends are down the hall, the doors all open.” He moved closer to her to put his mouth next to her ear. She answered with a whimper.

“This is bad, what we’re doing." He purred. "But it feels so fuckin’ good.”

The profanity dripped from his lips like honey. It caused her a heady rush in her and suddenly she was beyond her own control, the power deep within her rushing forward. She sought out his eyes and met the beast’s gaze with the dauntless scope of her abilities. This power, called forward by his commands, met and challenged the beast. His flashing eyes never looked away, held hers until they dropped in submission. He rumbled low in his chest at this, and was surprised when those eyes raised back up to his again. She was showing the beast exactly what it was dealing with. 

He roughly pressed his thumb down the length of her, then dragged the blunt edge of his nail along her hypersensitive center. A barely reigned in moan came out of her, the force of the pleasure from this pain causing her to buck under his touch.

Her gaze began to waver as her orgasm started to build deep in her belly. She reached out then and asked for what she wanted. She grasped the wrist of the hand that was buried in her, and with him thrust it harder and harder and harder into herself. With each press in, she gasped and he felt himself hardened to almost beyond endurance. He needed inside her immediately. He roughly pulled out his fingers from inside her and opened his pants to unsheath himself. He pulled her by her arm, hard and quick and clumsily, to straddle his waist, and with one harsh rip tore her knickers off her. Taking her behind into his hands, he lifted her and pushed his cock inside her.

Her face was as set as his now, and she started to grind up and down his length rapidly, squeezing her pussy around him as she did. She was so close, so close.

“Now.” He commanded and she was undone, her orgasm tearing through her body. Burying her face into him, she bit his shoulder through his shirt, hard, to stop herself from screaming out her pleasure. This primal act made the beast in him roar and he thrust up into her one long last time before exploding with his own climax.

____


	4. Chapter 4

It was at around this point that Sir Malcolm left them alone in the London house. He claimed to be filled with wanderlust again but Ethan knew there was more to it than that. He was giving them the privacy of the house, allowing them to live together as a couple and see what came from it. Vanessa had clung to him when he said good bye, making him promise to not be gone for too long. Yet once they were alone in the house, she turned to Ethan and smiled, her tears quickly dried.

It was in the solitude of this time together that he realized the more subtle changes within himself that she had enacted. The first and biggest change in himself was his drinking.

He knew that she was aware of how much he drank. She wasn’t monitoring him, or attempting to control his behaviour, had never even commented on it since their first meeting. She knew that a drink was sometimes the only thing that got him through the day and that he struggled with going too long without one.

Seeing what he had seen since meeting her and protecting her from it had given him a sense of purpose that made his hand steady and he never missed the target. But the things they had seen also caused jolts of memory, a flash of her face possessed, her being attacked by the scarred nightcomers. These were the things that made him still need his whiskey.

Yet without her commenting on it or giving him any indication of disapproval, he felt himself thinking of her before he would pour himself each drink. He would try to think of when she wasn’t being threatened. He thought of her smiling at him in the stage light of the opera. He remembered what she looked like when she’d come under his touch for the first time. He thought of her in the late afternoon light, purpling and low across her pale skin. He thought of her in these moments of peace and then placed the stopper back in the bottle. This wasn’t the man he wanted to be for her.

Making this resolve and then actually executing it were two different things, however. Years of dependency had made his body need alcohol, and for the first few days, as he weaned himself off it, he felt shaky, sick and scattered. He hadn’t told her what he was trying to do. He wanted this to be something he accomplished for her as well as himself, but couldn’t bear the weight of disappointing her if he wasn’t equal to the task.

Though, as he had been learning since he first met Vanessa, she did not have to be told about something to know that it was happening, especially when it came to him. He knew that with her heightened perception she’d been peering into him, reading him like she read her tarot cards. Where this would ordinarily be an invasion into parts of himself even he wasn’t able to face, with her he felt like he was being tenderly observed. Not just observed though, considered, absorbed and empathized over. He could almost feel her inside of his mind as she held his pain and his torments in her love, turned them over and over, covering them with her understanding.

It was with this understanding that she finally approached him. On his fourth night of attempting to not drink, by six o’clock his hands were shaking. He was using all of his resolve to fight the need to go and pour himself some whiskey. He had been sitting on the couch in the parlour alone for hours at that point, with her out of the house on an errand. The relief that rushed through him at the sound of her opening the door was akin to being granted a reprieve.

“Ethan?” She immediately knew something was wrong when he didn’t come to greet her at the door as he always did. She went into the parlour and walked around the couch to look at his face. He was white knuckled with his control, a cold sweat dappling his brow, teeth clenched.

Without any need for explanation, she sat next to him. Taking one of his clenched fists, she gently pried his fingers open so she could weave her own with them. With her other hand, she reached out to stroke the side of his face. At her touch, his eyes closed and he concentrated on her presence, on the hand holding his own, at the scent of her surrounding him. Then he felt the nudging, the gentle presence of her in his psyche and he was completely exposed to her. Reading all he was trying to do, she let out a loving sigh.

“Oh Ethan,” she pressed a kiss to the side of his face, then leaned against him. They huddled together on the couch like this as the fading sunlight left the room.

Gradually, a feeling of release happened within him. The stress of his fight, his body screaming for liquor, his barely controlled grasp on his shaking hands, moment by moment they lessened. Replacing them was this warmth, this sense of lightness. It felt familiar though it wasn’t something that was his. It was her. She was soothing the addiction in him, using her power to surround the need with herself, with her love for him.

Feeling like he had been reborn, Ethan looked down at this incredible, magical creature next to him. She was smiling so sweetly, eyes shining, like a child who knew that they had just done something good. She had done this thing like it was nothing. She had taken on his pain and swaddled it with love.

“Thank you.” His voice was still shaky, but he was smiling. “Thank you for saving me again and again.” She flushed pink at the praise. He kissed her then, long and sweet, cupping the back of her head.

“Will you take me to dinner tonight, Mr. Chandler?”

“Of course, darlin’, of course.” He kissed her again, “Anything you want.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Well then, would you do me one small indulgence?”

“Anything.”

“Order the lamb, rare.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I believe the sight of you devouring it in front of me at a posh restaurant may be my undoing.”

____

 

He did order the lamb, extra rare. When it was placed in front of him, he pressed some of the blood from it with his fork, then cut a large piece off and ate it with much gratification. The intensity of their locked gaze, combined with the private delight both of them were experiencing while he did this, made everyone else around them disappear. She watched him eat three of these beautiful red chops, each one with more voracity than the last. By the time he was finished, she wasn’t smiling at him anymore. Her whole body was attuned, awakened, flooded with need. He read this on her face like she was a book only he could understand. The dilated pupils, the high points of scarlet on her cheeks, the flush creeping up her throat. His woman wanted him.

They barely made it out of the restaurant. Once in the carriage, their hunger for each other was so great they forgot everything, leaving the blinds open, and giving all they passed a glimpse of the two of them, grasping at each other, her head thrown back as she gasped in pleasure at the feel of his lips on her throat. While he kissed her with pent up desire, he could taste the blood of the chops in his mouth, now mixed with the taste of her skin, and both he and the beast keened at the feeling of it rolling together over his tongue.

Once the carriage stopped, he immediately grabbed her and swung her up into his arms. Accompanied by the sound of her delighted laughter, he carried her up the stairs and into his room. Finally within this privacy, he placed her back on her feet and then they stood, frozen, him with his back against the door, her a few feet away. Their eyes were trained on the other, their chests heaving with rapid breaths, clothing and hair disheveled from their frenzied encounter. He took two big steps and was in front of her, pressing his body to hers, but not touching her, his lips hovering over hers. She made a small noise of want, unbidden, when she leaned forward to kiss him and he pulled back.

“I want you to touch yourself.” He whispered.

“What?” She distractedly answered, still trying to kiss him. He pulled back and made her look into his eyes.

“What you did to Mina, what I do to you. I want you to do that to yourself. And I want to watch you do it.”

At first her mouth dropped open, silent, unable to form words. Her comprehension of what he was asking fought with her modesty. He could see the battle as it flit across her face, her brows knitted, eyes still dark with need, her lips struggling to form words. The want was there, though. He could feel it.

He took her by the hand and lead her over to the bed. With his own hands, he unfastened her dress and petticoats then helped her step out of them. He turned her around to loosen her corset, reaching around her to unfasten it and remove it from its grip on her body. Then, wrapping his arms around her from behind, he pulled her chemise up and off her, then pulled down her knickers for her to step out of, leaving her naked except for her stockings and boots.

“Get on the bed.”

She did as told, crawling onto his bed then sitting up against the pillows. He went across the room and sat in the chair by the fire to watch her. He reached over to where her thin cigarettes were next to him, lit one and took a long drag, saying nothing. As he exhaled through his nose in two long streams of smoke like some mythical dragon, his eyes took in the sight of her, all exposed to his eyes with the heels of her boots pressing into the bed.

“Reach down and touch yourself.” He said, slowly and calmly.

Biting her bottom lip in apprehension, she did as he asked her. She put a tentative hand down to where she could feel the heartbeat of her desire thrumming. The warmth, the softness, the slickness, it almost startled her. She felt a quick, unexpected sweep of pleasure at her own touch.

“I want you to take your middle finger, and with just the tip of it, rub a small circle inside your pussy.” As he said this, his voice was low and commanding, the words coming out with an exhale of smoke.

She startled at this filthy word coming out of his mouth with reverence and did as was told. At the feeling of her own touch, at this insistent contact within the wet softness of herself, her breathing quickened, her eyes fell closed.

“Faster.”

She looked at him through the veil of her closed lashes as he watched her, eyes flickering between the wolf’s flashing green and his own black with desire, and she felt her thirst for him surge. He crushed the lit tip of the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger as he watched her hand speed up her touch.

“Touch your breast with your other hand.” Without hesitation, already so caught up in the sensation of her finger stimulating her center, she cupped her breast, let the weight of its fullness rest in the palm of her hand.

“Squeeze the nipple, hard.” She was startled at how hard she did it. Keeping her nipple between her fingers, she rolled it, like he would do to her.

She was so close, so very close. Her lust was eclipsing her, and she was powerless against it in that moment. Fear of being lost within it and not coming back nipped at her, and she sought her protector.

He was there, sitting on the bed next to her. The beast was watching her, and she felt the power within her, that was so closely linked to dangerous, horrible things, rise up against the wolf. The flashing eyes held her. She could feel her power being met, felt the beast unafraid in facing it. The momentary flash of having her power faced without fear crested over her as she came, calling out for him.

____


	5. Chapter 5

They still spent long days together, walking about the city, exploring, talking about all of the things that neither one of them had been able to talk about before. In the evenings they were in his bed together, wrapped around each other, the passion slow and tender, playing out the love that they felt for the other. He was amazed, still, constantly, at the sight of her blossoming under his attention, her ever present smile, her blue eyes dancing as they met his, the tenderness with which she wrote her touches across his body. He laid naked in front of her as she wordlessly trailed her fingers over him, across his collarbones, down the sinew of his arms, over the hair on his chest, down his taut stomach. She was memorizing each part by sight and by touch. She held his hand in both of hers, palm up, and read the future there. Following the strong, deep heart line, she smiled to herself. Her future was there too, always next to his.

Now that their desires had been unleashed in the both of them, it had become a presence that danced around them at all times. He didn’t want to rush her, wanted to make sure she felt completely safe in those moments, so he waited for a sign from her, telling him that she was ready to try again. He wouldn’t approach her in that way until he was sure that it was something she definitely wanted.

Eventually she let him know that she wanted it in very clear terms. She was riding him to her third orgasm of the night, and as she came with a rough wail the hands that had been loosely grasping at his muscular back suddenly curled in and she dragged her nails across his skin in eight long marks. It wasn’t deep enough to draw blood, but it was hard enough that he could feel it as the mark of possession that it was. The beast roared at this and he drove himself into her harder than he ever had, and though it felt like he was going to split her in two, she pulled him in even deeper.

So this was how she wanted to play it, he thought. Well she would have it as hard and as unbridled as she wanted. He was more than ready to give her that.

He went into the library where she was writing a letter. He sat down at the table with her, watching as she completely ignored his presence. He grinned to himself at the nerve of her. Her cards lay in a neat stack on the corner. He began to push them around the table in a distracted fashion, randomly flipping them over then tossing them to the side. This treatment of her sacred objects was getting a rise out of her, even though she still refused to look up at him. He could see her mouth twitching, saw her grip on her pen tighten.

Then there it was. The card that had told them both of their entwined future so early on. He studied this image, of the scorpion curled up on the open mouth. Before he had seen this as a threat, the deadly creature holding the mouth below it still with fear. But as he looked at it now he saw that this wasn’t true. The scorpion was teasing, the lips under it open with desire. This creature that could strike out with vicious deadly force at any moment was stilled on the lips of its lover.

His long study of this card is what brought her eyes up to see what he was doing. He gently placed the card on the letter she’d been writing. She smiled ever so slightly at it, then looked up at him.

“You knew even then, didn’t you?” He asked.

“I saw it, yes. However I didn’t fully come to know how true it was going to be until recently.” Their eyes held their shared gaze for a long moment until the grin that was growing across his face spread to hers and soon she was smiling just as broadly at him.

“I have never beheld the like of you, Van.” The sound of this name on his lips still made a little shiver go through her at the intimacy of it, at the way his rough, deep voice said it like a caress.

He watched the mix of tenderness and affirmation make her glow in response, and he basked in how her beauty shined.  He was never so pleased than he when he saw the light of his words playing across her face like it had just then. Enamored as he was at the moment, he hadn’t realized that he was slowly moving one of the cards under his hand. It finally caught his eye and he looked down to see the image under his fingertips.

It was the strength card. A monstrous clawed hand was raised, seemingly about to strike, but another hand, small, delicate, placed gently on the inside of the arm, was staying it. His eyes widened at seeing their relationship perfectly summed up on the card that he had unconsciously chosen. When he looked up at her, however, she had a knowing look on her face, that look that she got whenever she was deeply seated in her power.

“It’s not the strength of the beast, rather the strength of the hand that stills it.” She picked the card up and studied it. “More traditional decks show a woman staying a lion, its pink tongue licking her in loving submission.”

She studied his reaction, watching as he took in yet another glimpse of the beyond. She wasn’t lying when she said that she’d seen what the Lovers card meant when he’d first pulled it. But she had seen a struggle, not a submission. Now, on this side of it, she saw that she was indeed the scorpion on the mouth of her lover, the small hand on the beast, holding him in place with her power.

As he studied the cards in front him, his eyes floated to the paper in front of her on which she had been writing. His eyes caught on the words there. The phrases ‘hard and hot’ and ‘bruised under my fingers’’ jumped off the paper to him.

“Writing a letter to the reverend are we?” He teased as his tongue swept across his bottom lip. She realized he could see what she was writing and reddened with embarrassment, pulling the paper to her chest. At first she fluttered like a bird that had been startled, then she looked slyly up at him as his grin turned slightly carnal. The scorpion was curled, and he had to approach with caution.

“Writing out all the things that I’ve done to you, darlin’? Or perhaps you’re writing out all of the things you’d like me to do.”

She responded to this audaciousness with a twisted grin of her own.

“Or perhaps I am writing out all the things that I would like to do to you, Mr. Chandler.” Her eyebrow quirked at him as she said it, bold as day, without a hint of hesitation. He delighted in this, shaking his head ever so slightly at her as if he couldn’t quite believe it. She gathered her papers into her hands to tap them neatly together, then folded them in half to place inside an envelope. He watched as her pink tongue ran along the flap, her eyes trained on him. Sealing the envelope, she tucked it into the box on the table next to her, which he saw had another dozen or so similar sealed envelopes in it.

“Maybe one day you’ll be allowed to read these.” She smirked at him, placing one hand over the other on the table in front of her.

“Perhaps.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair to stretch out his long body, regarding her with a quiet surety about what he was permitted to do. “Maybe I can take a guess at what one of those envelopes contains.”

“Really? And are you the mystically gifted psychic now?” She huffed a chuckle at his boldness.

“I did pull that strength card, didn’t I?” He grinned lazily at her, hooking his thumb in his pocket low on his hip, moving to thrust forward some. He was displaying every strong part of himself to her. Her eyes ran up and down his length, taking in the coiled power languidly arranged just so in front of her. She thought of what she’d been writing, thought about how she’d been trying to describe what his hard, looming form above her felt like as he drove into her again and again. She would feel so tiny, so encased, so protected. It was the closest to complete freedom she had ever felt.

“I’m going to take you to that party you were invited to tomorrow night.” He told her. “And I’m going to do something to you that you ain’t never had done to you before. Something that you won’t ever forget.”

____

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can google the strength card from the Penny Dreadful tarot set, or see it on my tumblr - homicidalbrunette.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

The party was held in one of the older houses in London, full of high ceilings and long, foreboding shadows. It was a ridiculously large house, owned by a family that stretched back to London’s earliest days as a civilized city. Thick brocade curtains smothered any noise and everywhere there were large paintings of men in powdered wigs, horses rearing up on their back legs underneath them. At every turn there was heavy, ornate furniture whose sole purpose seemed to be to stand impressively in their substantialness. The rooms through which the guests wandered were large and endless. Ethan and Vanessa weaved their way through the people, to enter room after room, each one more dark and preposterous in its ornateness than the last.

He had told her to wear her crimson dress that night, the one the colour of spilt blood. Its basque was tight, fitting into the narrowness of her waist and opening like a flower around the fullness of her breasts, which sat high and pale in the cradle of the low neckline. The skirt was full, draping around her and trailing out behind, spreading out like a puddle of blood. The purity of her pale skin next to this sanguine silk made her look like a pagan goddess, swathed in the sacrifices of all those who adored and feared her.

He lead her through the press of people, in and out of rooms at a leisurely pace, with his hand behind him and her following, holding onto his fingers. He smiled at him whenever he looked back, but she knew what he was doing. He was making her wait, wait for this unknown thing to happen. Her blue eyes narrowed as she observed everything and missed nothing.

Room after room, they passed by people. It seemed like there were hundreds of bodies in this large, sprawling house, for every room was teaming with masses. Finally they came to the solarium with all of its doors open. There was a dozen or so couples milling about the entrance. Ethan slowed to stand next to her and offer his arm. With the utmost properness, she took it, and he lead her into the glassed in room. It was filled with huge palms, large exotic plants, and the occasional caw of a bird hidden in its jungle like depths. He escorted her in, down the path that went through this lushness until they stood before the glass wall, where the light was dim through the foliage. Outside the window, London glowed, the gaslight and windows of the other large houses visible just beyond. Alone in this darkness, the smell of the greenery, the humidity of the life growing in there, they could see much but were not seen. They were alone, though surrounded by people. Through the leaves, glimpses of the party and all of those proper Londoners could still be seen. The elegant strains of the string orchestra playing somewhere in the house floated in to mix with the sound of the hidden birds.

He grabbed her and pushed her up against the glass, holding her there with his body. When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her.

“No more talking from you.”

With that, he knelt in front of her.

Though she was not quite as shocked as she would have been just a short time ago, this still caught her off guard. She had no idea what he was planning on doing, prone before her as he was. She was unable to ask, forbidden from talking. She watched silently as his hands gathered the crimson silk of her dress, pulling it up to reveal her black sheer stockings and nothing else underneath, as he told her that afternoon that she should be.

“Good girl.” His voice was thick as he placed his hands between her knees. He gently pushed until she parted her legs, her eyes trained on what he was doing. He took her hand and placed it to hold the gathering of her skirt to her stomach, and then put a hand on each of her bare hips. He studied the soft hair covering her at the crux of her legs and inhaled the heady smell of her desire so close to him. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of her hip, then the other side. When he moved to kiss the undeniable softness of her inner thigh, she quivered. Before she could recover his mouth was there, pressing a kiss to the center of her, already flooded with arousal.

Her knees buckled at the contact, and her free hand reached out to grasp fruitlessly at the smooth glass behind her. Inhaling shakily, her brain scrambled to assess what he was doing. His mouth, his sensual, pursuing mouth, there. This was something she’d never ever dreamed possible.

The mouth kissed her there again, and then again, then rested on the soft thatch of curls. Ethan took a moment, his mouth watering at the scent of her, the beast gnashing to be let out. Turning to face it in his mind's eyes, together they pursued what they both so desperately desired.

He gently lifted her thigh and placed it over his shoulder, opening her up him. She was already flush red, swollen with arousal. With his fingers opening her even more to him, he took one long sweep along her with his tongue. She released a barely restrained cry that verged on hysterical. But he wasn’t able to concentrate on her reactions anymore. The pure undiluted taste of her, this essence of his mate rolling over his tongue made him pass his tongue between her swollen lips again and again, deeper each time. The overwhelming pleasure of this made him growl against her, the vibrations reverberating into her pussy causing her to almost buckle from the waves of pleasure rolling through her. She reached out to dig her fingers into his hair, to push his head into her aching center.

His name fell from her lips like a entreaty, though what she was asking for exactly, she didn’t know. She could hear the conversation of a couple just on the other side of this big room, knew that they were exposed to all of London through the glass behind her. This indecorous position they were in, the wantonness of this act that they were engaged in, the idea of it being exposed to the moral uprightness of London society just beyond the jungle around them should have made her want him to stop. Instead it made her want it even more. He pressed in deeper with his tongue and she chanted his name over and over, like a prayer.

Her pussy was soaked with the flood of her desire and he couldn’t get enough of it. The warmth, the softness against his tongue, it was like nothing else. She was like velvet, smooth, soft. She pushed him in deeper with the fingers digging into his scalp now. He finally registered the litany of his name babbling from her lips as it dissolved into indistinguishable mewls. She began to undulate her hips against his face, head back, eyes still looking at the jungle, the lights, the people that were around them but so far away at the same time. He found the hardened nub, the center of all her pleasure, and pulled it in between his lips, once, twice, three times. As he did, a loud single exclamation left her lips.

“Fuck!”

She came undone, her orgasm tearing through her, causing her to spasm under his touch, her body trembling with its force. She became limp as the orgasm left her, and he had to stand quickly to catch her before she crumpled over. She finally let go of the silk that she’d been clenching in her hand, and it fell in a wrinkled mess in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up against his chest, holding her as the convulsions still pulsed through her, her body limp with expended pleasure.

That uttered obscenity was one of his most treasured achievements. To have brought out such an improper word in a moment of utter sexual abandon made his already hard cock twitch against her. But this moment wasn’t about his release. It was about breaking through her control and letting an intense, forbidden act of pleasure roll through her and push at the holds she had over herself.

Holding her close, he gently swayed, resting his cheek against her head, as he heard her breathing calm. Her arms were pressed against her chest, between them, and her flushed hot cheeks were cooling in the nook of his shoulder. She felt as if the center of her was liquefied, heavy, still pulsing with jolts of pleasure.

He nudged her head back to look at her, smiling at her dazed expression. He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. This essence was both foreign, yet somehow familiar and she kissed him again, pulling in his bottom lip to capture as much of it as she could. Pulling away from him, she ran her tongue over her lips slowly, her brow furrowed as she studied this new sensation. He chuckled at her contemplative face and kissed this crease of concentration on her brow. When she looked up at him and smiled so openly, he knew that they had been able to push through the darkness of her passion. She had been able to indulge, to let go, to abandon herself to the sensation, and still be the one in control. She looked at him with utter adoration.

“Thank you, my love.”

____

 

___


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized you can reply to comments! So from now on I'm going to try and answer all the wonderful feedback I've been getting. :)

It was early in the morning when she awoke. Dawn’s soft light was just starting to fill the bedroom, and everything felt still, frozen in time.

Was this her room now as well, she wondered. This chamber that he had inhabited was where they spent their nights together. The cold loneliness of her own room seemed unbearable in contrast to the comfortable feel of Ethan’s presence in this space. The idea that this may indeed be their room now made that rush inside of her swell, the one she got whenever she realized how he’d filled her life with so much light.

She laid where she always slept now, draped partially over his slumbering naked body, her leg between his, her arms pressed in against her own chest. His big warm hand was on her waist, holding her to him, and his other lay over his heart. His body was always so heated that they never slept under blankets, rather entwined and naked and fully exposed, his skin keeping her warm all night.

Blinking the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes, she lifted her head to look up at his reposing face. He looked utterly at peace, all the worry lines smoothed out, the brow untroubled. She reached up a tentative hand to run her fingertips along the line of his jaw and contemplated this man, this creature, who had changed her whole life in ways she never imagined possible. Through his care, his trust and his strength he had shown her so much about herself, about life and about a connection between two people so strong that she had never dreamt it possible. He had defined what love actually meant.

She had always believed that love was a game, a series of advances and retreats, of aggressive moves and tactics used to possess something, have power over another, take something away that belonged to someone else. She thought love was a struggle, a war, and only the most cunning ended up as the victor. She had always believed love to be a selfish act.

It had never occurred to her that love was about connection. It wasn’t until now, with Ethan, that she realized that love wasn’t just about your own needs.  It wasn’t just about what the other person could do for you, but also what you could do for them. It wasn’t self aggrandizing, it was about delighting in another.  It wasn’t about convincing another that a carefully constructed facade was who you were, rather feeling the deep, hidden parts of yourself being greeted with compassion. Love created a safe space in a cruel indifferent world.

Ethan took in all parts of her, studied her like a landscape he was memorizing. She watched as he wrapped his fingers around her thin wrists, measuring on his own hand their circumference . With complete focus he gently took her arm, measured its length, placed her elbow in the palm of his hand, ran fingertips along the delicate skin. He slid his hand up her willowy upper arms, touching his fingertips as he encircled her there.

He did this time and again to various parts of her. He slipped into a silent study and meditatively spanned and measured all of her dimensions, observed the contrast of her pale, pale skin against the brown tan of his own. He watched as the goosebumps ran over her skin when he ghosted fingertips over the softest parts of her, marveling at the dusting of pale freckles over her cheeks, shoulders and chest, studying the fragile transparency where it was the most sensitive, the play of bluish veins like networks of rivers under her skin.

One morning he took the brush from her hands and pulled it through her long black hair himself, intently watching the white bristles disappear into its dark masses. He sifted his fingers through the black curls, fascinated. He watched her as she twisted it and pinned the knot atop her head, then he reached out to wrap one of the tiny curls framing her face around his finger. He sat quietly on the edge of the bed as she slipped off her long silk kimono, her naked body looking as pale as moonlight with only the hints of colour being the blush of her nipples, the shadow of soft curls at the crux of her long, thin legs, the lines of her body both full and slim, her shoulders back, neck long, chin proudly uplifted. Under his loving gaze, she pulled up her long black stockings, knickers and chemise. She took her corset then and wrapped it about her, hooking the fastenings together in front of herself, then reaching behind to grasp the stays.

“No, darlin’, let me.” His voice was bedroom low, soft and familiar. She turned as he came to her and felt his hands running along the caged shape of her body. He stroked the steel boned lines slowly, feeling the points where they dug into her flesh.

“This seems so cruel. I hope you’re not wearing this for me, Van. I wouldn’t want to know you were in pain in an attempt to make me appreciate your body. I don’t need any help with that.”

“Ethan, my love, do you think I would do something that I didn’t want to for any man?” She smiled at him over her shoulder, catching his eye and pulling an answering smile from him. “It is true that this confinement is very binding. But the corset, the dresses, the high collars, the high shoulders, these are my armaments. They are my curled up stinger, making me appear more intimidating to predators. My endurance of the pain they cause me reminds me of my strength and that those who would try and destroy me will see me as formidable power to be reckoned with.”

She turned back around then, and took his face into her hands, running her thumb over his lips.

“I don’t wear my armor when it is just you and I. I have no need for it when I’m in the safety of your arms.” She kissed him, pulling his lip in between hers, glancing her teeth over it before pulling away. “Now lace me up, and don’t be afraid to pull hard.”

“Yes ma’am.” He returned her mischievous smile with one of his own and turned her back around.

Perhaps one of the most astonishing things she had learned about what love could do was not just watching the tenderness and adoration in which he regarded her. It was the affection that she found herself bestowing on him.

She was enraptured by him. The way his body moved with seeming leisure, relaxed to make it appear as if he was no threat, laying in wait like a coiled snake, ready to jump up and attack whatever threatened. The sound of his voice, rumbling deep in his chest against her ear. The feel of his hands, calloused, rough with his past. His muscular forearms revealed when he rolled up his shirt sleeves. The long stride of his legs as he crossed the room towards her. The feel of his hair, smooth against her hands. The colour of his eyes like the oak tree by which she had played as a little girl. The play of expressions that danced across his features, playful, reverent, lost in pleasure, firm with intent, but always, always shining with love for her. Laying there next to him in bed, she ran her fingertips along his brows, over the line of his nose, outlined the shape of the mouth that her eyes knew by heart.

She didn’t need to know the rules about love. Love wasn’t a game, not for her and him. Love was something they were creating and living in together. It was the place where they touched, and studied, and listened, and laughed, and kissed, and all of the other things that they did everyday that made the other know that they were connected. The affection, the attentiveness, the good in each other that they were discovering, that’s what love was. It was a dance that was brand new, that they were making up as they went along.

She burrowed in deeper against his side at this thought, reaching her arm around him to pull him close. She kissed the bare skin of his chest under her and listened to the steady thump of his heart as he slept. Pressed against him like she was, she felt where his body was touching hers.  She felt his hip bone pressing into her center and pushed her hips against him, feeling a stirring at the contact. She pushed again and then again, feeling the pleasure increasing.

She started to grind against him, feeling the pressure against her but not having any direct stimulation. Moving faster, she bore down on him with her lower body, pressing herself against him in smaller circles, quicker and harder. Small whimpers came from her and she felt her skin become dappled with sweat from her efforts.

Suddenly she was being flipped over and onto her back. He had rolled her over and had her pinned to the bed with his full weight, capturing her underneath him. She stilled herself and waited. His cock was hard, trapped between them. He moved clumsily, snaking their bodies against each other, slick with the sweat of her exertions, pushing her legs open until he had shifted to place himself at her cleft.  She reached down and placed him at her entrance, feeling him push into her in one long full stroke.

She let out a low exhaled groan at the feel of him inside her. His body had her trapped under it, she was carrying almost his whole weight. The feel of him, almost crushing her, bordered on claustrophobic initially but began to feel beautifully restrictive. His body was hot like a flame, touching all of her, inside and out. All of her senses were filled with him.

He began to thrust into her, lazily, and she realized that he wasn't fully awake yet. He was behaving almost instinctively. She turned her head to capture his earlobe between her teeth and gave him a nip, to see how much of the wolf was with her. He jerked and growled at the touch, the rumbling going directly from his chest into hers. The wolf responded, making him push into her with more purpose until he moved up onto his forearms for leverage. She slid her hands down his body to feel the flexing of the muscles along his sides as he thrust deeper into her. The primalness of this, of him restraining her with his weight, of his ragged breath rasping in her ear while he fucked her in this animalistic way, was overstimulating all of her senses.  She began to tremble, her thoughts distilling down to one singular urge, to crave only him. She pressed her mouth back to his ear and urged him on, chanting ‘please’ to him, over and over. It soon became a litany, a ragged imploring for release. She chanted faster as he drove into her deeper. They pressed into one another as if trying to merge into one.

“Now, now!” She growled it at him, loud and demanding and he answered with a low roar as he pounded into her.  She felt herself coming, flying to pieces underneath him as he soon followed.

____


	8. Chapter 8

He had taken himself down to the cellar, as was his habit now on the night of the full moon. He would shackle himself to the wall and let the beast tear through his skin, safely restrained from doing any harm. These nights were lonely for Vanessa as she kept vigil in their room, unable to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, knowing that he was down there, in the depths of the house, being consumed by his monster. He had ordered her to never come down to the cellar on these nights, telling her that he couldn’t live with himself if, when in his other form, some kind of harm befell her.

She appreciated this gesture of concern and had abided by it, until her curiosity about the beast became too much. She had seen glimpses of it, heard its call from within him. She wanted to fully encounter it, to let it see her and know her, for her to see it and know it, and for them to come together in their most primal of roles. She knew now that it would never hurt her, and that she would be enough to satisfy all of its primal urges. The wolf belonged to her, after all, and she could do with it what she wanted.

So the scorpion crept down into the darkness. With only the light of the single candle she held aloft and clad in her thinnest nightgown, she went down the stairs just before the moon had reached its peak. He was in the corner, deep in the shadows, where she could barely make out his form. She wasn’t sure if he was aware of her until she heard a low growl.

“Vanessa, what are you doing down here?” His voice was rough, struggling. “Go back upstairs.”

“No, Ethan, I will not.”

They both knew that once she decided she was going to do something, there was no deterring her, no matter the risk. She kept walking towards him, the candlelight slowly filling the darkness. Finally she could see him, curled up in the corner, naked, the shackles on his wrists held close to his chest. A fine sheen of sweat dappled his face as he tensed in pain.

“Vanessa, please.” His voice was hoarse now, strained with his control.

“No, my love. I won’t let you hide from me.” She sank down to her knees a few feet away from him, placing the candle on the ground next to her to pick up the key from where he’d placed it. She came towards him slowly, holding out her hand to him.

He knew this stubbornness. He knew that she would not be stopped. More than that, he knew what she was capable of, the power she possessed.

“Please don’t let me hurt you.” He said, fear lacing through his voice as he held out his shackled wrists to her. Keeping his gaze, looking at him with utter certainty she tenderly removed his chains.

“I can handle pain, Ethan. I am ready for what is within you.”

As the brightness of the full moon entered the dark cavern, the transformation began. She watched as bones unhinged themselves, joints popped out. When he finally lifted his face to hers, it was the wolf who looked back at hers. Holding its gaze, she slipped out of her nightgown. A low growl emitted from him, different in its inhumanity from the ones she’d heard from him before. He pulled his feet out under him, crouching, slowly approaching her.

The wolf’s eyes watched as he became very very still, ready to strike. Her hands shook as she ran them over her naked body. Whether they trembled out of fear or heady anticipation or some combination of the two she didn’t know. She held her breasts, manipulating them roughly as he watched, waiting. She moved her hands across her belly, down to her hips, and spread herself open to push a finger into herself, already slick with her arousal. His upper lip twitched and his eyes narrowed to slits.  This was the only reaction as he watched her touch herself, as her breaths became rapid and raspy. She kept her eyes locked with the flickering danger in the wolf’s eyes, challenging it to take her. Slowly he leaned forward onto his knuckles to catch her scent. He took a deep inhalation of her arousal and growled long and low. She knew the beast wanted her.

She took her hand and held it in front of him, glistening with her desire. She leaned forward very slowly, extending her hand to him. Cautiously, the wolf was lured to her. He moved cautiously, jerking back when she made too sudden of a movement. Keeping the beast’s eyes locked with hers, eventually she was able to gently run the wet tips of her fingers across his lips. His tongue lapped at the wetness, and he snarled, revealing his teeth to her. She met this aggression by falling to her hands and knees in front of him and ducked down below his gaze to snarl up at him in return.

This challenging gesture was what broke the beast out of its cage. He leaned down and with slowly extending claws grabbed onto her neck and pulled her back up again. She could feel the sharp points pressing into her skin but did not struggle. Rather she turned her head to the side and exposed the vulnerability of her throat to him. The clawed hand flipped her onto her back so quickly and so hard that it knocked the breath from her. He leaned down over her, his snarling face looking less like Ethan’s and more like a thing possessed. With the hand still wet from her own arousal she reached out to grasp his thick cock. The hand on her throat squeezed her airway, pressing the claws in to the point of pain, but she did not let go. The feeling of the pain, of the trickle of blood tracing its way down her clavicle, it made a deep growl start in her chest, one that redoubled into another challenging snarl. Her body was responding to this play for dominance, the jostling for power. She ran her hand up and down his length, hard as steel and hot with blood, pausing to rub her thumb over the already leaking tip.

At this the beast picked her up by her neck and towards his snarling face. There was no Ethan in those eyes, just the flashing, intent hunger of the beast that held her in its potential deadly grasp. She trembled under his hold, but the beast felt no mercy. It was intent on its own desires. It knew what it had wanted to do to her, had long wanted to do to her, and it was finally going to do it.

Suddenly she was pressed, face down, into the dirty floor of the cellar. The hand on her throat had moved to the back of the neck and she was firmly held down. She felt a flutter of fear race through her as her heart beat a staccato rhythm of anticipation. This had been what she had wanted. She knew that even in his most primal form, Ethan wouldn’t hurt her. But the beast's full desires were unknown to her. She didn’t know what to expect.

Her hips were shifted so that they were in the air, presenting her to the beast. The staying hand moved to her back and with no preamble, the beast thrust hard into her, harder than Ethan had ever dared, and began to pound into her. The force of the thrusts pressed her face and chest into the floor, the dirt scratching across her skin. The pace was frantic and soon there was an inhuman rhythmic grunting with it as it fucked her hard.

The fear began to melt away as her own deep arousal took over. The grunts, the pain of the claws pushing into her back, the grit of dirt on her tits, were all making her most base desires overwhelm her. She began to buck back at the thrusts, undulating her hips to meet them. A low repetitive snarling answered his increasingly loud grunts and instinctively she reached back to rake her nails down the tops of his thighs, the possessive violence of the act making the beast loose its rhythm, then double down twice as hard.  

“More!” She screamed out as he slammed into her. The frenetic pace of his thrusting became even faster and he drove into her so deep, deeper than she’d ever been fucked before. She was lost in it now, consumed by her desire.

Suddenly time slowed. The darkness around her was alive with sharp coldness. Locked in her overwhelming lust, she heard it. The whisper of the darkest demon, of the devil. It sang its ancient unholy song to her, as it always did. She tasted real fear then, the greatest of her fears. Her whole body was paralyzed as she felt the devil’s cold hand reach out to take her, like the sharpest blade slipping into her soul.

Feeling the beast behind her tense up and become still, she was brought back to present. It too had sensed the impending danger around them, and snarled in warning.

She was pulled up suddenly by the clawed hand on her throat, the cock still buried deep in her. With its other claws on her belly, the beast held her still. Behind her, the beast emit a thunderously loud roar at the unseen predator, one that reverbed through the cavernous space. Her eyes searched the darkness, darting around in fear. The devil would not be so easily deterred, but the beast would not be denied.

With the claws at her throat and belly, the beast bent her body backwards more, arching her back, and emitted low, continuous snarls at the unseen demon around them. She became still in its grasp, afraid but trusting in her protector. Without the force of before, but with a steady firmness, the beast bent her head to the side so her throat was exposed. This tenderness was only momentary.

It sunk its sharp canines into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Vanessa let out a strangled cry at the rich, pure wave of pain, was blinded by it. Deep within her, from some primal part of her, the pain was a release. She was marked, she was his. Her body, that had been tense with fear of the devil, fell into the force of the beast’s possession. Coming back to herself, she felt the teeth still in her flesh, the claws still sinking into her, the cock still thick and hard inside her.  They were both still, waiting.  A weak sob fell from her lips as she felt anchored to this world, held back from evil.

The cold touch of the devil, the whisper that had haunted her to the point of madness, who had pursued her for so long, had disappeared. She reached out with her power, searching, seeing if there was anything out there, waiting, that malevolent force, but all she could feel was the beast. She’d been marked by her wolf, and she was its mate now.

The beast pulled its teeth from her tender flesh and let out a loud, victorious growl, sensing that its claim had been made. It then pushed her roughly back down to the ground. The wolf pounded into her again, hard, demanding, marking her again as its own with each thrust. The growls that came from it were guttural, animalistic, and she responded just as primally, snarling as she pressed back to meet the cock more engorged and thick than ever, deep within her. Their shared growls built together until she felt herself begin to spasm around him right as he came, throwing his head back as he bayed.  She came with a loud sob, tears streaming down her cheeks, released in body and soul.  

____

 

He came to the next morning in the usual fog that accompanied his nights of transformation. Everything was blurry, and his whole body was wracked with pain. His movements were hindered by the stiffness in his joints, so he laid there prone as his consciousness slowly returned.

It was usually in these moments that the horrors of what he had done the night before revealed themselves via bloodied hands or blurred flashes of memory. Suddenly, he felt a body close to his. Momentarily terrified of what he had done but still unable to move, he shook his vision clear until he saw Vanessa, naked and asleep next to him. She was curled up, arms and knees pressed to her chest, her head tucked under his chin as his length wrapped around her, his arm holding her to him. They’d been sleeping like this, him curled around her like…

Like wolves, he realized.

His eyes took in the sight of her, dirty, scratches over her skin, bruises on her knees, hips, arms. Then he saw his mark on her, his bite on her neck. He had a flash of her form in front of him, down on all fours, submitting herself to him. He remembered thrusting deep into her pussy, hot like a fever. And then he remembered it. As he never had been able to before, he remembered everything.

He remembered a threat, an intruder. The beast didn’t know who it was, only what it was. A challenge, a menace coming for his mate. She belonged to the beast. No usurper would be allowed to try and take her from it. So it had marked her, sinking his teeth deep into her.  He felt the animalistic rush over again of how that had felt to the beast. Ethan shivered all over at the intensity of that memory of desire, rolling through him and making his cock twitch.

Looking at the mark, he had another flash, of curling up around her while she began to doze off and licking the wound, soothing it. Vanessa keened under the ministrations, stretched into it with replete satisfaction. Ethan could taste her blood even now on his tongue, and felt his cock get even stiffer.  He felt the long ragged claw marks she'd left on his thighs as the marks of possession they were and had trouble focusing with all of this stimulation flooding his consciousness. 

She slowly blinked her eyes open and turned her head to him then, greeting him with one of the most content smiles he had ever seen on her face. She looked as if she had been relieved of a great burden, and seeing this, he made the connection in his head. He had scared off the demon last night. He had established her as his, and not the devil’s to have. The savagery of his beast, of the curse that had been preordained for him, had been what was needed to release her from the devil’s grasp.

But not just this freedom had been granted. Her belief that the beast would not harm her, that its sole intent towards her was to protect had been proven as true. The trust she’d placed in his darkness to not harm her, in her connection to his curse, had allowed him the ability to be tamed in her presence. The claws that had committed such heinous acts had been stayed by her. The beast, what had always been a curse, had been what had released her from her dark oppression and she had proven herself to be strong enough to stop the violence that it was capable of. They had found their salvation in each other.

They locked eyes as they both realized this, as they both came to understand the freedom they had both just been granted. Her smile stayed even as tears started to swim in her eyes. He held her face and kissed her then, his happiness overflowing. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her as close as he could as he was weakened with relief, his deep breaths shuddering with the intensity of this reprieve. Then, from deep in his embrace, he heard her.

“Might I take my wolf out to play tonight, my love?”

____

 


	9. Chapter 9

She had helped dress him that night, tying his tie, putting in his cufflinks, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. She took a gardenia out of the bouquet in the parlour and tucked it into his button hole, smiling at it for a long moment. Her eyes were shining with happy tears when she finally looked up. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips to kiss her fingers. This was their first night of freedom.

They started their evening at the restaurant in the finest hotel in London. Ethan accused Vanessa of using her ‘crazy witch powers’ on the maitre d’ when they were immediately given a table, despite of how busy it was. She had raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Mr. Chandler, do you not believe that my beauty alone would be enough to sway a man into giving me what I want?” The look she was giving him was like the cat that ate the cream, cheeky, cocky, and ever so pleased with herself. He wolfishly grinned at her, both feeling the dizzying happiness of their combined freedom dancing in the air around them.

Watching her eat the oysters she ordered became an exercise in restraint for him. She placed the shells to her mouth and tipped her head back, exposing her throat to him as she swallowed. He squeezed the table in front of him so hard that he left nail marks. She ate all of the oysters, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on him. When she’d finished the last one, she drained her champagne flute and moaned in satisfaction.

“Might I have another glass, my love?” She smiled at him so openly that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking her hand.

“Mustn’t drink too much. Wouldn’t want you to wake up tomorrow with a sore head.” He teased as he reached over for the bottle in the ice bucket by the table.

“I think if I have been able to survive multiple dances with the devil I should be able to handle a few drinks.” She said offhandedly as he refilled her glass.

“Well, you know best, darlin’.”

When she walked out of the restaurant when they were done, however, she felt slightly tipsy, but it didn’t concern her. Her whole body had felt like she was filled with bubbles all day, so light with her freedom as she was. The bubbles from the champagne had seemed to make that feeling even more ticklish, and leaning more than she realized onto Ethan’s arm, she giggled to herself. This girlish tinkling was so sweet, so innocent, that he had to stop and kiss her. He held her face in his hands, his eyes dancing.

“Now that we’ve mixed with the fancy folk, why don’t we find a place with more American like values? Spend some time with good, honest, working class folk who aren't quite so restrained.”

“I am very eager to experience American culture now that I am in love with one of their countrymen.”

He grinned at her and and let himself think for a moment about the idea of Vanessa back in the States with him. He saw her standing next to him as they looked over the wide expanse of the Southwest desert, her cheeks burnished by the setting sun. He wanted this, wanted to show her his past, where he’d come from. But not yet. Let them have this time to relish this giddy relief.

“I don’t think America is quite ready for the likes of Miss Vanessa Ives.” Her eyebrow arched at him in response.

“Well then where are you taking me?”

____

They ended up in a pub in South London. As it was a Saturday night, the fine establishment of The Fox and The Turtle was packed with people, men and women who had worked long shifts in the factories all week and finally had their night off. The beer was being tapped as fast as the lad behind the bar could pour it. Squeezing through the crowd, pulling Vanessa behind him, Ethan got to the bar finally and ordered two pints. They were passed over to him in quick order, and after he flipped some coins to the boy, he turned to Vanessa to hand her one of the mugs.

“I’ve never had beer before.” She said, appraising its dark amber colour and foamy top.

“No time like the present, then.” He clinked his glass to hers. Raising it to her lips, she took a hearty gulp, examining the malty flavour.

“It’s almost sweet. And very thick.” She took another big swallow of it.

“Darlin’, beer isn’t like other spirits, it’ll go right to your head if you’re not careful.” He met her eyes to convey that he was serious and she smiled in return.

“Surely nothing will befall me with you by my side.”

They found a table amoungst the press of people, and once sitting, Vanessa began to take in all of the faces around her. Letting her heightened perception reach out, she felt the buzz of the happiness of those around her. There was an honesty to these people that was missing amoungst those she’d been raised with. Without the restraint of propriety, they were quick to feel, letting their reactions show without any shame. Bursts of laughter, shouts of joy, the voices around her matched the happiness she felt within.

Her cheeks were flushed as she finished her pint, sitting it resolutely on the table in front of her and grinning at him. She noticed his eyes, then, lingering on where his mark was under the tight lace of her dress and raised her fingers to touch it, and smiled knowingly at him. He arched an eyebrow at her in response, running the tip of his tongue along his lips. They challenged each other in that moment, holding the other’s stare, waiting to see who would back down first. He watched her resolve flicker, and her eyes dropped. He had won dominance this time.

“So what do you think of beer?”

“I believe I quite enjoy it, Mr. Chandler.” She eyed the half full glass in front of him with intent, and he pushed it over to her. She picked up the mug and took a deep draught off it, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she set it back down. He smothered his laugh at this decidedly unladylike gesture.

“You know, we could have a pub named after us.” He said with a cheeky grin. “We could call it The Hound and The Scorpion”

She snorted out a laugh then, her hand flying up to her mouth when she did. The giggles poured out of her and he laughed with her.

“And we would only serve beer. And buttercream tortes.” She quipped.

“I don’t know how this crowd feels about buttercream tortes, darlin’. Might be a delicacy that they’ve not experienced”

“Then they must have some! Let’s send to the nearest bakery and get enough for everyone!”

“But then what would you have for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Beer.” She answered dryly, picking up her glass to drink. He threw his head back with laughter.

Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, warm from the press of people and the drink, her eyes dancing with delight. The bubbles that had been inside her all day seemed to be fizzing all over her skin. She felt the giddiness of the drink mixing with her own bright joy, and everything felt like it was glowing with life around her. She looked over at Ethan, seeing the same joy she was bathed in covering him too. She reached out and grabbed his silk neck tie to pull him across the table to her. She kissed him full on the mouth, lingering in the touch, in front of all these people, with complete abandon. They stayed up on their elbows, leaning across the table close to the other.

“You have such a luxurious mustache, Ethan.” Her smile was adorably and drunkenly crooked. “That’s very important in a man, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” He grinned back at her.

“You’re devilishly handsome, of course.” She said, and then realizing how she’d described him, a loud peal of laughter came out of her.

“Let’s hope not.” He laughed with her.

“No, you’re angelically handsome.” She carefully pronounced the words, finding it difficult to enunciate suddenly.

“Straight from the pearly gates, that’s me.”

“An angel.” Her eyes softened then, and she reached out to cup his cheek. “My guardian angel.”

“I’ve been accused of being a lot of things, darlin’, but never that.”

“You saved me, Ethan.” She said, suddenly sobering. She leaned forward to press another kiss to his mouth.

“You saved me too.” He encircled her tiny wrist in his hand. “Sembene would say that because of this, we are now responsible for one another.”

“Yes, I believe that’s true.” He was her responsibility. His well being, his happiness, his safety, these were some of her greatest concerns now. “I’m never going to be parted from you, Ethan, never again. Even if you think you’re doing it for my own good. Even if you put yourself in the hangman's noose. Even if you’re on the other side of the world. I will be there with you.”

“They’d have to pry me away from you. You’re my guiding star. I will never loose sight of you again.”

These vows made, they kissed again, long and slow as the crowd around them disappeared. They kissed until Vanessa went to stand up to lean in for more and wobbled. He caught her instantly, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Whoa there, little lady. Watch your step.”

“Did you just refer to me as little lady?” She teased and he smirked back.

“Smart mouth, then. Does that sound more appropriate?”

“Yes, I believe I am quite smart of mouth.” She drained the rest of the beer then to punctuate just how smart of a mouth she had.

“I think that may be enough for you.” He put a supporting arm around her waist to help guide her through the crowd.

“But Ethan, I want another glass!” She protested then felt everything around her begin to spin slightly. 

When they got out into the cool night air her level of intoxication became fully apparent to her. Her face was hot and she was swaying on her feet, but Ethan was there, guiding her to the carriage.

“Can we have beer at home? Is it something that they sell in bottles?”

“I believe tomorrow morning you may not be quite the fan of it that you are now, darlin’.”

He got her up and into the carriage, and then had the singular delight of listening to a very tipsy Miss Ives tell him all of the thoughts that were tumbling through her head the entire ride home. This initial display of unrestrained giddiness was something that he always remembered, no matter how many times he saw it again. She was all lightness and joy, making jokes, playful, giggling, petting him. Seeing her without the iron cage of her control, watching her being so unfettered, so free, it was something that pierced through him with the intensity of it. This was her as she was meant to be. Strong and clever and inquisitive and confident, without any fear. There was no need to hide, no holding back, no uncertainty about what she might be capable of.

She reached up to lightly run her fingers over the bite mark under the lace of her dress, then leaned over to him. She ran her hand along his thigh slowly and softly over the long ragged gashes she’d raked into his skin.

“How are my marks on you, my love?” He stilled her touch, taking her hand from him and smiling but shaking his head.

“I believe that they are much as you left them. We can see to them tomorrow.”

She pouted slightly at being rebuffed and he smothered his smile at her response. Once the carriage pulled up to the house, he opened the door and got out. Turning to help her, he just barely caught her as she stumbled out of the carriage.

“Okay then Miss Ives, it’s to bed with you.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her inside. 

“You’re so strong.” She beamed at him. He chuckled at her, raising his eyebrows in encouragement as he took her into their room and placed her on the bed.

“Really? Do you think so, darlin’?”

“Oh yes. I am like a small bird in your hands.” She leaned forward to rest her head against his chest then, her eyes closed, smiling peacefully. He pressed a kiss to the dark crown, holding her close to him for a moment. He felt her start to nod off against him.

“Alright, little girl, time for bed.”

He undressed her then, having to pull her clothing off of leaden limbs like a sleepy child while answering all of her slightly slurred questions as he did. After he got her into her nightgown, he helped her lay down. He poured a glass of water for her from the jug on the dresser and placed it next to her on the bed stand. He pulled the covers up to her shoulders and leaned over to kiss her brow.

“I believe I’ll go to sleep for a little while.” She murmured, her eyes already closed.

“Okay darlin’. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Vanessa rolled to her side and began to drift off, and then woke up with a start.

“Ethan, tonight, it’s almost time.” She blurry sat up and he gently pushed her back to the bed.

“It’s alright, darlin’. Go to sleep.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, everything will be okay.”

She met his gaze, searching it for reassurance. He smiled softly at her and she acquiesced, her eyes slowly closing and her breathing evening out.

Ethan took off his coat, shirt, tie, cuff links, socks and shoes and then laid on the bed next to her. He curled up around her sleeping form, arms about her middle, nose buried in her neck. He had felt the change creeping up on him for a while now, but it had been held back, by what exactly he wasn’t sure. But he hadn’t felt the threat of it lurking until now, when he and Vanessa were alone in this safe space.

The transformation happened without the usual violence this time. Maybe because his fear had been removed, maybe because the beast’s mate was there and needed to be protected. The beast emerged slowly, and then was there, heightened senses intoxicated by Vanessa. Taking deep inhalations of the warm soothing smell in the crook of her neck, above the mark of possession, the beast was still, calm, and stayed there, wrapped around its mate, until the moon set and dawn blossomed.

____

 


End file.
